


A Dying Angels Grief

by FallenAngelOfTheLord



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon Dean Winchester, M/M, Post season finale, after 9x23, only brief mentions of hannah and metatron, s9 finale spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:52:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1668695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenAngelOfTheLord/pseuds/FallenAngelOfTheLord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Devastated by the news of Dean Winchesters death, Castiel attempts to use what little time he has left to save the man one last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

    

At first, it took much self restraint not to plunge that blade into Metatron's heart. The blade that was still tinged with Deans blood. It felt wrong to tantalize it and mix it with the blood of something so evil, though Castiel didn't think he could have even if he tried. Because the longer he held that blade in his palm the heavier it felt, as if it were dragging him with it to the ground.

Eventually, he released it from his grasp, watching the blade clatter onto the floor. He couldn't bring himself to hold the object that had brought death to Dean, and just merely looking at it and hearing that sentence in his head, brought a sick feeling to Castiel's stomach.

It was the worst pain he had ever felt. Unlike a wound on the outside that could be mended, he felt it on the inside, clawing it's way through his chest. It was a raw, human emotion, one that was eating away at him as the moments passed. His own eyes were damp, wet with the same tears he'd only seen humans cry before.

Perhaps his fizzling grace was making him closer to humanity than before, but he had a feeling that even if he were still a full angel completed with his own grace, he would still be feeling this never ending emotion brought on by the words Metatron had said to him only moments before.

_He's dead too._

Unable to ignore the pain building in his chest, and well aware that he had an audience watching and waiting for him to make a decision, he kicked the blade farther away from him before taking Metatron's arm.

“I'm taking him to Heaven's jail.” He said, trying to hide the thick emotion that was seeping almost inconspicuously into the edges of his voice. He hoped that rotting away in a cell for all of eternity would be a worse punishment than death.

 

Metatron stayed surprisingly quiet on his way to the cell, and Castiel didn't dare utter a word. The only sound came from Hannah, who was standing beside him still marveling over how great of a leader he was as he pushed Metatron into the cell. She was a good angel. Loyal. Though he didn't deserve her loyalty. He didn't _want_ her loyalty.

“I'm no leader, Hannah,” He dismissed at last, eyes tired and weary. “I never was. I just want to be an angel.”

Oh how he longed to just be an angel again. An angel with wings; wings that could take him to wherever it was that Dean was resting. An angel with his own grace, powerful enough to heal. An angel with the power to bring Dean Winchester back to life. And an angel who didn't feel the awful human devastation that was threatening to crush him. But instead, he found himself crumbling apart from the inside out, as this grace withered and died inside him, threatening to take his life too. And the funny thing about it was that he didn't care.

He had failed his one true mission, and Metatron knew this. The righteous man he had saved so long ago, was gone and he wasn't there to stop it. He had been too late. He could have acted sooner, but it was too late. The timing was off by just seconds, and if only he'd been aware of just how crucial those few seconds were, maybe he could have saved him.

_He's dead too._

The words echoed in his head again, and he found himself turning sharply, away from Hannah and her concerns about his stolen grace, away from the awful creature in that cell.

He was dying, yes, but first he had something to do.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Once the gates to heaven had been reopened, souls had been pouring in rapidly. Each of them traveling to their own heavens in a sort of chaotic frenzy. 

It would take time for all of the souls to find their place, but Castiel was willing to wait and search over every one of them while he did.

He searched for a specific soul. The one that had always mystified him, managing to shine so much brighter than the others. A soul so bright and pure, yet weighed down with a darkness around the edges that could only be from a lifetime of sorrow and guilt. Though as time passed, and almost all the waiting souls had sailed through heaven's gates, he still had yet to catch a glimpse of the bright soul belonging to Dean Winchester. 

Had Metatron lied? Perhaps Dean really was still alive. The thought sent a shrill of hope through the angel, and yet the weight in his chest still refused to budge. Swallowing hard, he began to head back to the place where he'd originally entered Heaven.

It would be an agonizingly slow journey without his wings, but he had to find out for sure. He would not allow his grace to burn out before he reached Dean. Before he knew for sure that he has done everything in his power to ensure the mans safety and life. 

 

 

It didn't take nearly as long as he had feared to reach the bunker, though he had certainly wished he could have gotten there sooner. He wanted to bust down the entire door right then and there but instead found himself knocking, almost timidly.

Because truthfully he was  _afraid_ of what he would find. If he would find Dean dead and realize there was nothing he could do about it. Or to find that Sam had already burned his body. It seemed to him that whatever he were to discover behind this door would make everything more permanent. Make Dean's death more of a reality.

It took Sam a long while to answer the door, and when he did, Castiel saw that the mans eyes were a puffy red from crying and his long hair was a stressed out mess.

Sam said nothing as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand before pulling the angel into a tight hug.

It took a small moment, but eventually Castiel hugged him back, trying to supply comfort to the younger Winchester, though not feeling of much help due to the fact that he was still filled with a hollow emptiness himself. The state of Sam Winchester confirming his worst fears.

“Where is he?” Castiel asked, surprised at how weak his own voice sounded. It was no longer the voice of a powerful angel, but a grieving human. And he wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.

“I left him in his room,” Sam's voice was almost a whisper and he sounded terribly young. “I tried to bring him back, Cas. I tried.”

Castiel just nodded, not wanting him to have to elaborate on that. He could only assume that Sam had been trying to summon Crowley, and he knew that the demon had done enough damage already.

As he made his way to Dean's room, Sam distantly trailing behind him. He opened the door enough to see a couple of boots sprawled out on the bed, and he felt like being sick.

Pushing the door open more, he tried to prepare himself for whatever it was he was going to see, and as he did, the angels breath hitched. Dean was bruised and bloody, and his shirt was dampened in a residue that could only be blood that had been pooling from the wound undoubtedly in his chest. Yet, clutched tightly in the mans grip was the first blade, clasped securely in his hands. And after getting a better look, Castiel noticed that his chest was still moving faintly up and down with steady breaths.

Stumbling forward through the doorway, in what he could only assume to be a result from his fading grace, Castiel rushed to Dean's side. He didn't take the time to question how this was possible, but instead just reached a hand out to touch the mans face, hoping deep down that his bright green eyes would flutter open with life.

Though before the angels fingers could make contact with the mans skin, Deans eyes flew open, and with reflexes faster than any human he snatched Castiel's wrist in his grasp.

“Dean?” Castiel questioned in a whisper, wide eyes searching the mans face.

Dean just stared at him in return with a stone cold expression that sent chills up the angels spine.

"Cas," He answered, his lips curving up into a half smile. 

Though it wasn't the smile Cas knew, the one that used to light up Dean's face when he flashed his pearly white teeth. It was something different entirely, something almost twisted and unnatural that settled oddly on the mans face. 

Mustering up enough energy to glimpse into the mans soul, Castiel was horrified at what he saw. Instead of the bright colorful soul that he'd grown fond of, he saw a dark creature. A monsters face staring back at him. Dean's once beautiful soul twisted and demented until it was dark and wilted. It was an all too familiar figure to the angel, and yet one he'd never thought he would see in Dean Winchester.

And as Dean's eyes flickered a pure heinous black, Castiel knew just how lost the man had become to them.

 


End file.
